


Convert

by another_maggies



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: But I have to, Cheryl centric, F/F, I don't know why I write so much for Cheryl and Choni I just don't, TW: Conversion Therapy, TW: Homophobia, and I think we won't see a lot next week so..., tw: abuse, yeah a couple of thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14080320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_maggies/pseuds/another_maggies
Summary: Sister Warthouse does her best to convert Cheryl. Cheryl just doesn't comply as a good girl should.





	Convert

**I.**

Cheryl blinks her eyes against the dull light. She opens them slowly. And shuts them in double the pace.

She's still here. It wasn't a nightmare.

The tears return immediately. Evident of her peril as are the surroundings of the small cell she's caged in.

It smells like the hospital room she's spent the last days and nights in, sans Nana Rose's perfume. The thought of her grandma, now at the mercy of her malicious mother and ulterior motive uncle, makes her sick. Bile rises in her throat. She tries to move her head, but she can't. The drug must have not completely worn off yet.

 

Three hours pass before the door opens and somebody enters.

“Oh dear, what a mess,” the voice is uncomfortably familiar.

A few more steps indicate movement. Warm breath hits Cheryl's face, mixing with the stench of her vomit. (Both smell foul). She wants to puke all over again.

“Wake up now, child,” Sister Warthouse demands. Too scared of whatever punishment the old nun has planned in case of resistance she obeys. Her eyes meet the sister's, who's crouched in front of the bed.

“You are filthy,” the nun informs her. “We'll have to clean you.”

“I can't move,” Cheryl whispers. Her voice sounds hoarse, small. Nothing like herself. Maybe mommy was right. Maybe she's lost her mind.

The nun reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind the redhead's ear. The girl can't even flinch. “Don't worry about it. Thomas will take good care of you.”

Panic rises in Cheryl. Thomas? Thomas _who_?

A man she thinks she's already met the other day comes into view. “Let's get you cleaned up, child,” Sister Warthouse says.

 

Cheryl still can't move. She remains motionless as Thomas cleans her up. His hands are in her hair first, then on her back, and _then_. She can't help the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Please,” she tries.

“Don't worry,” Thomas says dipping a sponge in the water, “You will feel better soon.”

The sponge collides with Cheryl's chest.

 

Cheryl regains her mobility later, before noon. She doesn't move.

 

**II.**

Cheryl thinks about Toni, a lot.

It's not that there's nothing else to think about. (Jason, white, summer, death, guilt, Veronica, loneliness, confusion, certainty, desolation, desperation, safety, fire, phoenix, brothel, hope, future, mistake, failure, resignation). There's a lot to think about. But Cheryl mostly thinks about Toni.

She worries.

If her mother was willing to throw her, - her daughter, sole living true heir, own flesh and blood -, in this prison, what would she do to the girl who assisted in committing the crime?

No.

Not a crime. It wasn't a crime.

_You're not loveless, you're not deviant, ok? You're sensational._

She whispers the words like a mantra, afraid a sister will catch them if she speaks them just too loudly.

Sometimes, when Sister Warthouse is beating the demons out of her quoting 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 or something along the lines as she does, Cheryl's just concentrating on the mantra. She gets another whip for not being able to repeat the lines back to perfection. It doesn't matter.

Cheryl needs to remember. She mustn't forget. For Toni, she has to remember.

 

**III.**

Cheryl's in the worst ward the quiet sisters have to offer, and quite aware of that. She did a little digging on the place when she went on a Twitter rant against Polly after the latter's escape from the asylum. (She might be a bitch, but she's always been thorough on her research). There was no mention of steel doors and padded walls. Nothing about starvation. No note on days with the light turned on all night.

Judging from the website it seemed like the worst part about it was the religious fanaticism. Betty met her sister in the park. Cheryl isn't sure whether there even is a park. She's not allowed to leave her cell. And it's not like she's getting plenty visitors.

Which is good. She doesn't want to see her mother. Or her uncle, for that matter. Nana Rose, sure, but – bleak as it sounds – at this point Cheryl is pretty sure that she's seen the last of her the day her mother dragged her out of a hospital and put her straight into a prison.

Straight, ha.

Cheryl doesn't smile.

She's glad Toni's not visiting. She wants to Toni to stay safe and forget about her. Forget about what was and what could have been.

It's okay. She will remember for both of them. And remembering will keep her alive.

 

**IV.**

Cheryl gets a good lunch today. A sandwich, a salad, an apple, and a single green pill. She knows what this means. She sighs.

Thomas keeps watch as she eats. She tries to drag it out in any way she can, but eventually it's all gone. All but the pill. His eyes are on her as she takes the small tablet and puts it into her mouth. She uses most of the water she's been given with the meal to swallow it. After, she puts her tongue out. Thomas nods, satisfied, and leaves.

Half an hour later (or something like that; it's not like they've given Cheryl a watch to go with the uniform that identifies her as a lower kind of being), Thomas returns dragging an old television set into the room. He always does these odd jobs.

By now, Cheryl knows better than to ask whether Sister Warthouse prefers to stay away so she won't fall for the temptation herself. She scoots over on her bed as the recording starts playing. Thomas offers her a bucket. It's almost like a super awkward movie night.

Only that the bucket isn't full to be emptied, but empty to be filled. That, and the movie choice. Which isn't really a movie, but a master cut of tv's latest lesbians.

It makes Cheryl wonder who of them sits up all night collecting the material and cutting it together. She knows better than to ask that question now, though.

Familiar faces start to flicker over the screen. She recognizes some of them: the brunette from Pretty Little Liars, the blonde pediatrician from Grey's Anatomy, a bunch of Orange is the New Black characters easily identifiable by their khaki two piece asthetic. It doesn't take long for nausea to take over.

She's learned to keep her head up as much as she can while throwing up. She's supposed to see these women, watch their deviant ways as the gastric acid burns her esophagus. If she doesn't make sure of it, Thomas will, pulling on her pigtails. (And yes, she might hate these anyway, but it still hurts).

Sometimes she wonders whether Anthony Burgess had any intention of inspiring his readers to imitate.

 _Nothing like the Sun_ is one of Toni's favorites.

 

**V.**

_You're not loveless, you're not deviant, ok? You're sensational._

Cheryl traces the letters in the air. They're not there, of course. She can clearly see them, though.

She thinks it might be weekend. Her next door neighbor has been belting out Coldplay's double Platinum single for a while now (without Beyoncé's parts; maybe he's hoping for Cheryl to join in; he'd need to stay in key for her to do that, so it's a double cherry on top no for her). She's also been given two meals without any pills so far. Thomas has watched her shower instead of joining her as he usually does.

Surely, it can't be a reward. She hasn't been immaculate so far. It must be the weekend. Sunday, probably.

Cheryl closes her eyes.

A Sunday in spring.

Given nice weather, she could take Toni to Greendale for an art gallery opening, a bike ride. They could either indulge in brunch beforehand or find a cosy little café after. Cheryl would bring two pairs of sunglasses. She's noticed that Toni doesn't seem to have any. They'd take her convertible, open-air mode.

If the weather wasn't as nice they could always hang out in Toni's trailer, reading books. Cheryl's compiled a list for Toni, based on what she knows the other girl has read. And she's more than ready to let Toni push some of her favorites on her. The trailer is rather small, but it wouldn't be a disadvantage. They'd just cuddle up on the sofa with an afghan and some tea, limbs entangled.

Of course, none of these things are an option right now. They're but a remote possibility. Something to hope for in the future, when Cheryl gets out. If Cheryl gets out.

She traces her fingers over Toni's words in the air.

Maybe next Sunday.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> When Cheryl was revealed to be at Sisters of Quiet Mercy I was so mad!!! Conversion therapy is not allowed where I live, and I'm glad it isn't. It's sick and so, so wrong. I hope Riverdale will handle this appropriately (AKA not in the way that Cheryl's suicide attempt was brushed over).


End file.
